Coda
by Sir Cameron Dragic
Summary: There's always another lighthouse, another man, and another city. Learning of the failure of his alternate self, Zachary Comstock comes up with a solution to stop Booker DeWitt from saving Elizabeth. His plan? To bring Booker into his flock, not as a False Shepard, but as a Guardian of the Lamb. And with that, he completely changes the course of the path that Booker must tread.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm hoping that this story will be a little different from the other Bioshock Infinite stories out there. Just imagine that this is one of the untold stories of another lighthouse, another man, and another city. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_It was an admirable effort, it really was. It had made perfect sense. Wipe away the genesis of Comstock at Mr. DeWitt's baptism, and thus, all Comstocks should theoretically disappear. Perfectly sound logic. The door to Mr. DeWitt's transformation into Comstock had been slammed shut, never to be opened again._

_Of course, there's the danger in altering the timeline. Close one door, and you open a host of other ones. There are an infinite number of worlds, as my other self and I have discovered over our travels through the different timelines of the world. And within those infinite number of worlds, there are always a set of constants and variables. _

_When Elizabeth had drowned Mr. DeWitt, she had effectively destroyed a variable. Mr. DeWitt's rejection of his baptism became a constant. But there's the problem. Create a new constant, and you create a new variable. _

_And suddenly, with the creation of a new variable, you suddenly have an infinite number of outcomes, as logic dictates. And within this infinite number of outcomes, there is but a single timeline that is radically different from all others. Yes, there may be only one within the endless sea of timelines, but it exists. And within this timeline, Zachary Comstock is not dead. Far from it. Turns out that Mr. Dewitt's baptism was not the only method through which the Prophet could come into existence, just the most statistically probable method._

_Funny how science works, huh? Just when we humans think that we have mastered it, we are reminded of our own pitiful mortality. We are not omniscient, and we cannot foresee every outcome. A man chooses, and a slave obeys. But who are we, if not slaves to the laws of probability and science?_

_-Robert Lutece, 1912_

* * *

_I have seen the future, and it is glorious! My Columbia, my ark in the sky, it can be completed! I've enlisted the aid of a woman named Rosalind Lutece, and she has shown me what can and will be completed by me. _

_It is a utopia, with a perfect race of people in a perfect city, governed by a perfect man and a perfect religion. _

_But, as with any good thing, there are those who will decry it, and attempt to pervert its idyllic nature. You have to understand that I was shocked when I realized that the man who was fated to destroy my dream was none other than Booker DeWitt, my past self. _

_At first, I had been heartened by the results. One hundred and twenty two times, he came and failed to take away my Elizabeth. But then, on the one hundred and twenty third time, something changed. This Booker DeWitt wasn't like any other, for he succeeded where the others failed, and made off with my daughter, and allowed my Columbia to spiral into violence and darkness. _

_I know that the same fate is to befall me soon. In but twenty years, Booker DeWitt will come and attempt to destroy my city. But I shall not let him. He will not succeed in this universe, no matter how he tries. I have observed for countless hours, witnessing again and again, the folly of my other selves. However, now, I have resolved to change my fate. I will stop Booker DeWitt. Not with armies or weapons, but with kindness and trust._

_Booker DeWitt will trust me, and he will become my own weapon against fate._

_Zachary Comstock-1892_

* * *

Chapter 1

I woke up with water clogging my lungs and a bright light searing my eyes. Coughing out some of the water that was threatening to choke me, I groggily sat up to find myself staring up at three massive marble statues. At the sudden sight, I flinched and scrambled backwards, sending water flying in all directions and disturbing the otherwise serene surface of the small pool I was lying in.

"What the fuck?" I muttered as I realized that they weren't supposed to be angels, but instead, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin. Albeit, they appeared like a trio of Greek statues, but one look at each of the plaques at the base of each of the figures told me otherwise.

I ran a hand through my hair in an effort to sweep out any water that was still there as I struggled to remember exactly where I was, my mind still hazy before a phrase came to mind.

_Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt._

Oh, that's right. I was here because of the job I had found to pay off the men I owed money to. I would get into it, but that story's way too long for me to even know where to begin. It had sounded easy enough at the time. Find some girl, bring her back to New York, and my accounts would be wiped clean, no questions asked.

But now, I was seriously wondering exactly what I had stepped into.

I pushed myself up to my feet and immediately, my eyes honed in a set of stairs that wrapped around the statue of George Washington, which I found more disturbing by the second. Look, I'm all for patriotism, but not like this. It didn't help that I had almost been drowned on my way here. I swear that Goddamn priest was trying to kill me.

"Our prophet fills our lungs with water, so they may better love the air." A man dressed in white clerical robes informed me as I made it to the top step, his hands clasped together in an act of prayer.

Yeah, sure thing, buddy.

I didn't bother to respond and I walked past him without a second thought. I've never been one for praying and all that. I tried it once, but it didn't do me any good. Not after Little Bighorn. A couple of words weren't going to change the fact that I had done terrible things, so why even bother, right?

And besides, religion was the last thing on my mind. What was more important was finding the girl, and quickly so that I could get out of this place. There was just something that felt out of place, from the moment I had woken up. Almost as if something was very wrong, beyond the obvious.

* * *

My nose crinkled in disgust as I took in the sight of the half-man and half-machine monstrosity standing in front of me on the stage. It was a massive creature, with gangly metal limbs that were currently being used by the "Handyman," as the sign informed me, to cover his face as he whimpered in a combination of fear and pain. A part of me almost felt bad for him as I watched him stumble back and forth blindly, almost like a child of some sort, whispering softly, "It hurts. It hurts."

Somehow, it seemed that no one else could hear it, and the assembled crowd of Columbians gasped in awe at its appearance, seemingly oblivious to its suffering. As if they weren't being cold enough, one person actually took a photo, and clearly, the sound was painful for the Handyman, who recoiled instantly at the noise.

Feeling guilty just staring at it, I decided to turn my attention elsewhere, and my eyes immediately landed at a sign that declared, "Free Samples!"

I casually strolled over to the small booth, which was manned by a nice looking brunette, who offered me a green bottle, along with a flirtatious wink. Without even thinking twice about it, I grabbed it and downed the whole thing in one gulp, immediately feeling a strange sensation coursing through my veins.

My body quaked and the edges of my vision darkened as I struggled to stay on my feet, my entire body falling numb. I swore that I was on the verge of throwing up when the feeling subsided and I found the nausea disappearing. I gave the girl a look, which she reciprocated with the same blank smile she had on her face when she had handed me the bottle. Did she not just see me almost pass out? Suddenly, she seemed a lot less attractive to me and instead, I found that her presence was more unnerving than anything else.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered, feeling an overwhelming desire to get the hell out of there.

Luckily, there were an overwhelming amount of signs pointing to the raffle, the memory of a telegraph I had received earlier coming to mind.

_Don't pick Number 77._

I stopped in front of a ticket machine, which was manned by a robotic torso of an overly patriotic robot, only to be met by, "Sorry pal, the raffle's all sold out."

I grimaced. I had definitely not come this far to be stopped by an uncooperative machine. Suddenly, I felt the inclination to use the drink I had just swigged from the woman's booth. Acting on instinct, I placed my right hand in front of me, and I focused for a second as a green…something was flung out of my hand and into the machine.

The effect was immediate, with the automated worker turning a bright hue of green and the gate swinging open to reveal two figures, a man and a woman, who looked shockingly similar. They must have been twins or something.

Intrigued, I stepped forward to face them.

"Heads?" The man began. I noticed that he was wearing a chalkboard with an absurd number of heads, while the tails column was completely empty.

"Or tails?" The woman finished, holding a platter out in her hands. The man tossed me a Silver Eagle, and I obliged with his request.

I flipped the coin towards the plate, calling out, "Tails."

As it landed on the plate, I saw the woman's eyes widen in surprise, as if she had seen something incredible.

"It's tails." She announced shakily, and the man's expression changed to one of amusement.

"Thank you." He said before he placed an arm around the woman and led her to the side, so that I may pass through. However, before I completely passed them, I managed to catch a few words in passing.

"The constants, they've changed."

"We knew that coming in, didn't we? That's why we're conducting this experiment in the first place."

Experiment? Constants? I whirled around to ask the two exactly what they were going on about, only to find that there was empty space where they had stood earlier. Damn it, they must have run off while my back was turned.

Making a mental note to keep an eye out for some identical twins, I decided to head towards the raffle once more. After all, I came here to find a girl, and I was going to pay off my debts. I saw the glint of something inside of a trash can, and I reached a hand in, pulling out a Silver Eagle. Well, that wouldn't pay off any of my debt, but it was a start, I guess. The bigger question was why exactly it had been there in the first place. Then again, the people of this city were so clueless that I wouldn't put it past them to accidentally have tossed it in with their trash.

Resolved to continue on my path, I hadn't taken another step when I realized that I was staring at a very familiar picture. I know, because I had the same exact picture in my house. It was a perfect replica of a photo I had taken before Little Bighorn. As in dead on, with special care taken to replicate every detail, down to the number of buttons that I had undone that day, and the same bright and naïve eyes. Of course, I no longer looked like that, with four additional years of age on my frame, which was now more built than the skinny body I had once possessed, along with the extra wrinkles and scars that marked my face after that day.

But the fact remained that there was a picture of me in Columbia, standing on top of what seemed to be a pile of rubble and illuminated by a sort of heavenly glow, almost as if they were trying to make me out to be some sort of angel, which of course, I wasn't. If anything, I was a sinner who was headed straight to hell.

"Be prepared to welcome the Guardian." I read aloud, scanning the caption, which had been proudly displayed in large red text at the bottom of the picture. What the hell? Thoroughly confused by what I had just seen, I shook my head and continued on, trying to wrap my head around it. If they knew that I was coming, then I definitely had to be wary, but something told me that they weren't intent on hurting me. Not if the way that the picture had depicted me was accurate.

Finding myself standing in front of a stage, I assumed that I was in the right place, if the assembled crowd was any indication. I took short glances at the Columbians, doing my best to keep my head down, so that they could not see my face, which I assumed was recognizable to anyone who had that poster in mind.

"Hey Mister, come and join in the raffle!" A young lady with a low cut dress called out to me. I shrugged. Why not, right?

"How much is it?" I asked, reaching into my pockets for some Silver Eagles.

The woman giggled, "Have you been living under a rock? The raffle's always free!"

Well in that case, I guess it wouldn't hurt to try my luck. I grabbed the first baseball I saw and turned it towards me.

"77." I read out, grimacing as I did so.

_Don't pick Number 77._

Well, shit.

She peered into my hand, "That's a lucky number. I'll be rooting for you."

With a wink she walked off, leaving me feeling pretty good about myself. I guess that there's something about me that's just attractive to Columbians, and I wasn't complaining. I took one more look at the girl, who had moved on to handing out raffle tickets to some other people in the crowd. Yep, I definitely wasn't complaining.

"Bring me the bowl!" The announcer, an older man with a slicked up moustache and a top hat cried out, prompting the girl to cross up to the stage.

"Now is that not the prettiest young white girl in all of Columbia?" He asked the crowd, receiving raucous applause in response.

"Now, the winner is…" The man began, reaching in the bowl and pulling out a ticket, "Number 77!"

Well what do you know? I guess that I'm just lucky or something.

"Come and claim your prize! First throw!" He bellowed, stepping back and allowing the curtain to come up, revealing two people chained together.

Okay, what the fuck were all of these people cheering about? How was this even a prize? I froze for a minute, just trying to register what I was seeing.

"Well, are you going to throw, or are you taking your coffee black these days?" The announcer prodded, making a thinly veined insult at the color of the woman.

Look, I know I've done some shitty things before, but I sure as hell am not a racist. Immediately, I knew that the only choice I had was to throw the ball at that announcer to shut him up. I reared back and stepped forward, putting all of my strength into a nasty fastball, but right before I could release the ball in my hand, a policeman grabbed a hold of my wrist.

"Wait a second." The man said as I struggled to free myself from his grip, sweat staining my brow as I realized that he had definitely recognized me. And by his tone, it definitely wasn't a good thing. He studied my face, which I tried to turn away, but from behind, a pair of hands gripped the back of my skull and forced me to face forward.

Suddenly, the man's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, "It's the Guardian. It's him!"

As he said those words, the crowd collectively exchanged gasps and the announcer bent down to his knees in front of me.

"Well now, this is interesting, boy. Don't you know who you are?" He asked me with a smile that sent shivers down my spine.

"Who I am is none of your damn business!" I spat in reply.

"Looks like he needs to be enlightened. Take him to the Prophet!" He ordered, and my arms were roughly shoved behind my back before I was smacked in the back of my head once, sending me to the ground, where I lay, sprawled out in front of the astonished crowd.

I lolled my head over to the side and locked eyes with a small boy for a moment, who stared back at me with a certain something. What was it? Fear? Awe? I glanced back up at the policemen, who had their batons raised up in the air before they brought them down on me and the world went black.

Columbia was turning out to be a great place, wasn't it?

* * *

**So, I hope you guys are intrigued! I you want to see this continued, please, leave a review and tell me, because I don't want to write something that no one has any interest in reading. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all of the reviews so far! I really appreciate them!**

**Please, enjoy the continuation of Coda!**

* * *

Chapter 2

My eyes flickered open gently, as I felt my vision fade in and out, the sensation sending waves of nausea throughout my body. Shit, getting hit by a baton was definitely something I never wanted to be on the wrong end of again, not if I could help it. The faint coppery taste of blood was thick in my mouth, and upon further inspection with my fingers, I found that, in addition to a small cut on my lip, I had a nasty bruise on my forehead that was tender to the touch. I wouldn't be surprised if I found a large welt if I checked in the mirror, if I could get my hands on one, that is.

Where was I? I had expected to be dragged into jail by those cops, but I knew immediately that I was definitely not in the dankness of a prison cell. I swiveled my head in all directions, searching for any sort of clue as to what my location was. I was met with the sight of an elegant bedroom that I would never have seen in a million years if not for these circumstances. The vaulted ceilings were upheld by a set of columns that were decidedly Greek in design, which I guess fit with the whole aesthetic of Columbia, and the room filled me with a sense of openness and freedom with its great spaces and large windows, which allowed a generous amount of light filter into the room. This was a room fit for a king, without a doubt. And I felt incredibly uncomfortable just sitting there.

I was a war veteran, not some high blown aristocrat, after all. Uncle Sam had robbed me of my innocence by sending me out to war, and sucked me dry with his income taxes. Great American Dream, my ass. The old class distinctions were still alive and well, maybe even more so. Actually, I had been mulling over a contract offer I had received to work for Pinkerton, who specialized in serving those upper classes and showing the common man his place, when I had gotten this job in Columbia. And as of right now, that still looked like it was going to be the best job offer I was ever going to get.

My moment of thought was cut short by the opening of the door. In walked a large man, flanked on both sides by two guards. He was instantly distinguishable by the flowing white beard that encompassed the majority of his face, which was worn with a plethora of wrinkles, giving the impression of a man in his late sixties. He walked with an assured confidence and a certain grace that instantly made me shudder a bit in awe. He had an almost heavenly aura about him, compounded by his attire of a crisp white shirt that captured the sunlight and created a glow about his figure. Whoever this man was, it was clear that he was important.

He waved his fingers, and instantly, the two guards turned around and walked out of the room, making sure to close the door behind them as they exited, leaving me completely alone with this man, who paced the center of the room for a few moments before he scratched his beard and spoke.

"Do you know where you are?"

I found that, in this moment, my words escaped me, and I could do nothing but shake my head silently in response. There was just something about the way that he spoke that commanded respect and warranted the attention of all those nearby.

He smiled warmly and spread out his arms, somehow succeeding in making it seem as if he were the center of the world, which as far as I knew, was probably his personal opinion of himself, "You sir, are in Heaven. Or at least, as close as we will be in this lifetime."

"All right, save me the speech. I've heard it before." I grunted, remembering one of those crazy cultists and his words, which were exactly the same as what I was now hearing, "Just tell me who you are."

The man smiled in amusement, defying my expectation that he would be annoyed at my tone, "The real question is, who are you?"

"My name is Booker DeWitt." I snarled, already getting fed up with his manner of speaking. It didn't take me long to realize that he was one of those religion crazy Columbians, and that logic didn't really have much place in his realm of expertise. That was the problem with faith, at least for me. I never found much comfort in putting my troubles in the hands of some supposed great deity. Just because I say a few prayers and kneel before a cross doesn't mean that I'm not a killer, and I can't stand anyone who believes otherwise.

"That's not what I mean." He replied gently, still keeping the same little smile he had on his face. He took a look at me, and I looked down as well, realizing that I was missing my clothes. Noticing a fresh white shirt and dark brown vest hanging on a nearby coat rack, along with a pair of dark pants, I slid out of the bed I had been lying in and proceeded with the task of getting myself dressed, starting with the pants, which I slid on without much difficulty. To my surprise, as each article was added to my attire, I found that they all were a perfect fit, almost as if they had been perfectly tailored for me.

"Come along." The man gestured, leading me out of the room with a clack of his boots. We entered a hallway that was in the same style as the room I had just been in, with open spaces dominating the classical architecture and pane less windows allowing in the sunlight.

"Tell me, Booker, what are you searching for in life?" He asked casually as he continued down the hallway and I obediently followed behind, trying to commit the unfamiliar sights to memory.

Oh no, not this. I did not come to Columbia to be preached at by some Bible-spewing fanatic.

"Perhaps, you are looking to repay some great debt?" He suggested, with the insinuation that he wasn't grasping at straws, and immediately, my mind shifted gears. Whoever he was, this man knew exactly who I was, and he was just toying around with me.

"All right, what the hell do you want?" I shouted angrily, hearing my voice reverberate across the hall, hands clenched into fists as I prepared for some inevitable confrontation.

However, the man did not react much more than simply turning around so that he could face me, his expression exactly the same as it had been when we left the room. He made no motion to call for any of his guards, and he did not even attempt to defend himself, in spite of the fact that I had made it clear that I was not afraid to fight him right here and now.

"What I want, is to help you pay off your debt." The man answered, choosing his words carefully.

"And just exactly what do you think you can do? I owe money to some men who will not rest until either the cash in their pockets, or I'm in an unmarked grave. What can you do to stop them?" I fired back angrily.

The air was thick was tension as I awaited a response from the man, whose eyes had widened ever so slightly in shock.

To my surprise, the man chuckled, "Perhaps this is the appropriate time to introduce myself then. I am Zachary Comstock, the founder of the city you are standing in."

Well shit, I certainly wasn't expecting that.

"Now then, as you were saying?" He added, knowing that he had me speechless at this revelation.

I sighed, knowing that right now, I was in no position to refuse whatever he was offering, and I got the feeling that there wasn't really any option to begin with, "What do you want me to do?"

"Straight to the point, I see." Comstock replied, his voice dripping with satisfaction, "Very well, let me explain myself."

"Please do." I muttered.

He walked over to a column and leaned against the large marble structure, "I have ruled over this city in relative peace for as long as it has existed. But now, I have been accosted on all sides by dangers that are beyond my control. As you can see, I am no longer the youth I had once been, and I cannot do anything but dole out orders that may or may not be fulfilled."

"And how is that my problem?" I cut in, not really seeing why he wanted to help me.

"Well, I know of your past as a soldier, and I want to enlist your services to protect Columbia. And in return, I will ensure that your debts are paid in full to the men that you owe money to." Comstock answered in turn, not leaving any room for argument.

"Somehow, I don't think that I have much of a choice in this, do I?" I said through gritted teeth.

He chuckled, the laughs rippling through his large frame, "Trust me, you will not be so adverse to the idea once you learn what I can provide you. Money, power, respect. But that's not what you really want, is it son? No, you want a new start, and I can give it to you."

I rolled my eyes. Like that was possible. But at this point, I couldn't do anything but to accept his offer. I mean, what other choice did I have? If I refused, I didn't doubt that he would keep me locked or something, and then where would I be?

"All right. What do I need to do?"

Comstock grinned, "I knew that you would see the value of my words. Now, come with me."

As he uttered those words, the sound of a roaring engine sprouted up nearby, and I turned to see a small airship, filled to the brim with guards. The small skiff gently touched down, hovering a few inches above the ground, allowing for several of the guards to hop off and to assist Comstock on boarding the ship.

"Well, are you coming along?" He asked, as I realized that I was meant to follow. I nodded and clambered onto the deck of the ship, with the assistance of several guards, who boosted me up onto the metal surface.

"Get comfortable, we have a bit of a ways to travel." Comstock suggested, pointing to the cabin, which was occupied by a sole guard piloting the gunship. I took him up on his advice, sliding into a chair just as the ship lurched upwards and a nauseating sensation hit my stomach. Damn it, why does everything in Columbia have to be flying? Can't they just drive around or something?

"You know, I'm jealous." The pilot remarked as he smoothly tinkered with the controls, only occasionally making adjustments as the ship settled into a more stable flight pattern, a change that I was all too grateful for.

"Of what?" I snorted, not seeing what could be admirable about my position. Sure, if you want to be forced into working for some religious freak so that you can pay off some stupid debts, then please, be my guest. I'll trade places with you in a heartbeat.

The pilot shrugged his shoulders, "You get to meet Mr. Fink! Isn't that reason enough?"

I knew that the guy didn't mean to, but he really was pissing me off. Sensing that I was annoyed, the man's mouth clamped shut and he instead focused on the open sky in front of him. Thankful for the silence, I leaned my head back and tried to clear my head so that I could think about my situation.

"On Moonlight Bay!" My eyes snapped open at the sound of humming, its source none other than the pilot of the ship. Well, there went any chance of me getting some sleep. I could barely hear myself think over the sound of the man's humming. Damn Columbians and their singing.

* * *

"Here we are!" The pilot announced giddily as the ship eased to a stop, "Welcome to Finkton!"

I nodded and hopped out of my seat, grateful for a chance to finally be back on solid ground again. I looked up at the sight of a large factory building, proudly displaying the words, "Fink Manufacturing," along with a large portrait of the man I assumed to be Fink himself. The sound of manufacturing was deafening, with the shouts of workers and the screeching of metal in every direction as business was conducted.

"Over here, Booker! I want to introduce you to Jeremiah Fink!" Comstock shouted from his position down on the dock that we had landed on.

Grunting a reply, I dropped down from the ship and began following Comstock, who began rambling on about the history of this factory. Not that I really cared. I was more interested in the golden statues of Fink that were littered around the grounds. How much more self centered could a guy get?

"Ah, Prophet! It is certainly good to see you!" The moustache toting man that I instantly recognized as the announcer from the raffle, complete with his top hat, greeted warmly as we approached the gates of the factory. He gave me a hard stare that informed me that he had remembered exactly who I was, "Ah, I see that you've brought the Guardian. Hopefully, he knows his role now?"

Comstock smiled at me, "Well, he's certainly willing to do his part, if nothing else."

"All right, does anyone feel like telling me what all of this Guardian bullshit is about?" I growled, interrupting the two. I had heard the word applied to me several times now, and I was still as lost as I was when I first heard it. What the hell was it supposed to mean?

"How dare you speak to the Prophet in such a way?" One of the guards yelled, rearing back to slam his baton into my back when Comstock stopped him with a stern expression.

"No, he is merely confused by his role in all of this, and I don't blame him. You see, Booker, when I received my visions from the archangel, he foretold the arrival of a man so very much alike to you, who would protect the future heir of this glorious city and would ensure that she achieved her destiny. Well, my daughter has recently celebrated her twentieth birthday, and almost immediately after, you arrived in our city, bearing the same appearance that the Guardian was prophesized as having. You can understand where the connections would be made between you and the Guardian. As far as I am concerned, the two of you are one and the same." Comstock explained thoroughly.

I shook my head, "Look, I don't know which angel told you that I'm supposed to be some savior, but they were wrong. I'm no hero, just a damn fool who destroyed his life with the mistakes he made as a stupid kid."

"No, but that's where you're wrong!" Comstock replied, grabbing me roughly by my shoulders, "Every man has the potential to change for the better. In Columbia, I'm offering a new start, where you won't be judged by your past, but by your present actions. All you have to do is take a leap of faith."

My throat ran dry as the man's words reverberated through me. I wilted underneath his intense stare and I found myself nodding along in spite of myself. I wanted to believe him, I wanted to believe so badly, but for a man like me, could something like that actually happen? Could my sins really be erased so easily. God damn it, I was only twenty years old, and I'd already been on the cusp of throwing my life away. Would starting over in Columbia really be that bad?

"Okay." I managed, and immediately, Comstock loosened his grip on me, allowing me to step backwards with a gasp, almost as if the air had been sucked out of me. I could definitely see why so many people were so willing to follow him. He had a magnetic aura about him that made me want to listen to his words, no matter how much I knew that they were wrong in my heart.

Fink smiled at my words, which were akin to submission, "All right then, let me get you outfitted with some equipment. Samuel!"

"Equipment? What for?" I asked Comstock as a lumbering creature that I recognized as one of those Handymen I saw at the fair stomped up to our little group.

He coughed awkwardly, "When I said that I had a daughter, I might have left out a small detail. She is currently under the care of a creature we call Songbird. To reach her, you'll have to defeat it somehow, as it has grown rather overprotective and refuses to let her out of her home. I'd rather not have that mechanical beast defending my daughter, especially if he is unstable." Comstock sighed.

"Let me show you to the factory floor. We have prepared some weapons and armor for you." The Handyman that Fink had addressed as Samuel informed me, gesturing for me to follow him into an open elevator.

"But don't worry, if the prophecy is true, you should have no problem fighting off Songbird." Comstock reassured me as I shuffled into the elevator, although his words were of no consolation to me. I didn't like the sound of this Songbird, and I doubted that defeating it was going to be as easy as Comstock had made it sound.

As the doors of the elevator closed on me and I felt the sensation of a rapid descent, I gulped in anticipation. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

* * *

**Well, I hope that this adds a bit more intrigue to the story that I'm trying to write. I certainly hope that it's different and exciting, and I want to continue it, so please, let me know if you guys want to see more in a review or a PM. Thanks so much for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far! I really appreciate all of them! Please, enjoy the continuation of Coda!**

* * *

Chapter 3

My eyes gleaned over the interior of the elevator that we were standing in. Despite it being made for a factory, I found that it was much lusher than the normal steel cages that most factories used in New York. Instead, the entire cabin was built out of a fine wood that framed a glass window that afforded me a view of the factory interior, which was filled with a wide assortment of exotic machines and a multitude of workers bustling around, minding their own work.

"So, Samuel, right?" I asked, hoping to break the silence that had settled over the elevator. Given that we were the only ones standing inside, I had no choice but to try and strike up a conversation with my companion, despite how unusual it was to find myself talking to a hulking giant of a half man half machine hybrid.

He raised his eyebrows skeptically, and his gaze traveled up and down my body warily, almost as if he were trying to inspect me for some deficiency. His shoulders sagged as he cleared his throat, raising a massive arm up to his mouth, "And why exactly would you want to talk to me?"

Well, he had a point there. Why exactly had I wanted to talk to him?

I shrugged my shoulders, "I guess that I was just hoping that you would turn out to be the first person who wasn't insane in this entire city."

"Sorry, I'm just not used to people wanting to talk to me." He admitted softly, scratching at his head, "Most people see me as some circus attraction anyways."

"Then why would you agree to this?" I asked, gesturing to his body.

However, I suddenly felt horrible for asking that question as the color drained from his face and he recoiled a bit from me, "Look, I never asked for this to happen to me. All I ever wanted was to work in science and become closer to God with my wife."

I wanted to ask more, but I was interrupted by the ringing of a bell, indicating that we had arrived at our destination. Samuel led me out of the room, with no intention of continuing our conversation, if his hurried pace was any indication. We maneuvered our way around a factory floor, filled to the brim with various hulking machines churning out heaps of smoke that were funneled out through several ventilation ducts on the roof. It seemed that, even in paradise, there wasn't any way around pollution.

I saw a few young children scurrying around and I instantly frowned, noticing the wrappings on each of their tiny hands. I'd seen enough before in New York to know that they were likely the victims of some nasty accidents involving the various nooks and crannies in machines that only small children could reach. As far as these kids went, they all still seemed to be in pretty high spirits, despite their situation. I didn't even want to think about the ones that weren't lucky enough to get off with a few cuts here and there.

"We're here." Samuel informed me, nodding towards a wooden worktable in the middle of the room. It was filled with various guns of all shapes and sizes, along with a sizeable mountain of ammunition to the side, along with a few bottles that were suspiciously similar to the one that I had drunk back at the fair.

"Ah, Mr. Guardian, we have a few pieces of armor here for you as well." A peppy worker added, approaching me with his arms filled with clinking metal parts.

"Um, thanks." I replied awkwardly as the man set down the materials in his arms and reached out to grab my shirt, although I slapped away his hand instinctively before that could occur.

"I can do that myself." I said, quickly unbuttoning my vest and dropping it to the ground, my shirt following suit moments later. The man gave no change in countenance at the sight of my naked torso, and immediately set to work, affixing a metal plate to my chest and tying it in place with several leather straps, before he gradually added on more armor around it, moving to cover up my entire forearm, along with my shoulders and waist in the same material, which I found to be surprisingly light. He added on a few more plates to my legs and shins, rolling up the legs of my pants to do so.

"All right, all done." He announced cheerfully, allowing me room to put my clothes back on.

"Geez, this feels light. What is this made out of?" I asked, to which the man looked at me quizzically.

"Sorry, Mr. Guardian. Only Mr. Fink knows what we made this special armor out of. It was created specifically for you, and it was the only set we have ever made." He apologized, although I made it clear that it was not his fault.

"Anyways," He continued, crossing over to the table, where he proudly tapped on one of the guns, "Here we have a selection of guns for your use."

I nodded and took a closer inspection of the firearms, my eyes instantly drawn to a powerful looking handgun. I reached out and wrapped my hand around the wooden handle, mock aiming it a few times before I deemed it acceptable and jammed it into my holster.

"Ah, the Hand cannon. Nice choice." The man remarked, before he grabbed a bottle and handed it to me, although I was reluctant to accept it.

"What is that?" I asked warily, remembering the odd experience I had gone through after drinking that green liquid.

"It's a vigor. Haven't you heard of them? They must not have them down there, huh?" The man muttered, still insisting that I take the bottle.

Finding no other choice, I relented and grabbed the bottle, which was titled, "Shock Jockey," and downed it in one gulp. Instantly, my body felt a surge of electricity running up and down my spine, almost bringing me to my knees with its intensity and the sharp pain it inflicted on me.

"You feeling all right there, Mr. Guardian?" The worker questioned, waving a hand in front of my face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I replied, shoving his arm out of my sight.

"Well, have we gotten him all equipped with the necessary equipment?"

I looked up to see the figure of Jeremiah Fink approaching me, with that annoyingly bright smile that I wanted to wipe off of his face with my fist. He reminded me of all of those fat cats sitting in their offices and raking in the profits while abusing the common man. All of these politicians and businessmen were all the same, I swear.

The worker nodded, visibly tensing as the man approached, "Yes sir, Mr. Fink. He's all ready to go."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, "Look, you still haven't told me exactly what it is that I'm going up against. What the hell is a Songbird?"

Fink sighed deeply and tossed me a key, which I took the time to inspect closely, "Well, that's what we'd all like to know. I was the one who ordered its creation, based off of some vision I experienced many years ago. But now, I'm not so sure. It was never supposed to become so attached to the Lamb, but then again, that's why you're here."

He nodded towards the Handyman standing beside me, "Samuel. Take him back out to the docks. And get together a few guards to go along with you two. He's going to need all the help he can get."

* * *

Monument Island was, for a lack of a better word, breath taking. How the residents of Columbia had somehow made a massive statue float miles above the ground, he had no idea. The entrance had already been sealed off, and the courtyard was completely empty, leaving the only noticeable object being the crackling neon sign that proudly displayed its name of Monument Island.

"So, if the doors are locked, how the hell are we going to get inside?" I asked, walking the length of the gate and finding no way around it.

"Oh, we almost forgot. It's the final piece of your equipment." One of the police officers accompanying me said, pulling out a weird, saw looking apparatus from his pocket. He tossed it to me and I caught the gauntlet, inspecting the piece of equipment. It seemed to strap onto my left arm by way of several leather fasteners, and I wasted no time in equipping the weapon.

"It's a Sky Hook. It's magnetized to the rails around the city." The police officer explained, motioning to a hook protruding from the top of the gate.

Taking the hint, I pointed my arm upwards towards the hook, and surprisingly, the Sky Hook began spinning at an incredible speed before I was ripped off of the ground and found myself flying towards the hook. Closing my eyes in anticipation for an impact, I was shocked to find that none ever came, and instead, I was being suspended in air by the Sky Hook. Of course, my arm felt like it was going to pop out of its socket, but it was better than being crushed by a harsh impact.

I glanced at the ground on the other side of the gate and pointed the Sky Hook in that direction, finding that it heeded my orders and fired me straight at my destination. It took everything I had to land on my feet, feeling the sensation of my feet hitting the ground throughout my entire body. My knees were definitely going to hate me for this later on.

I stepped forward to see a small statue that was posed holding a scroll that read, "The Seed of the Prophet shall sit the throne, and drown in flame, the mountains of man."

What the hell kinda inscription was that? I had already come to accept that Columbia was just a confusing and insane city, but this was really starting to push the envelope. I mean, yeah, they were crazy, but this crazy? Somehow, I found that hard to believe.

* * *

All right, scratch that. There was no doubt that everyone in this city was completely fucking insane.

"Would you stop that?" I yelled as another book flew at me, this one finding its mark and striking right across the chin. Damn, that hurt. My fingers immediately flew to my stinging chin, tapping the skin there in an attempt to check for a paper cut or something. Wouldn't surprise me, with my luck, to find one.

"Who are you?" The girl asked, hiding her face behind a copy of Les Miserables, ready to toss that book at me as well, if the situation demanded it.

"Will you just calm down?" I snapped, receiving a book to the face for my efforts. Fuck you, Victor Hugo. You and your damn heavy book.

"I'll ask you again. Who are you?" The girl repeated, and I immediately sensed a hint of fear in her voice. Not so tough when you run out of books to throw at me, huh?

I momentarily allowed my thoughts to wander to the prospect of simply abandoning my mission and heading back to New York, especially if the girl was going to be so uncooperative. Frankly, I was totally willing to take my chances with the loan sharks at this point. However, my stupid pride got the best of me, and I swallowed the copious amount of curses I wanted to spit in the girl's face, "My name is Booker DeWitt."

I pulled myself up to my feet and proceeded to dust myself off for a second before cracking my neck. Falling out of vents had a nasty habit of throwing your spine out of alignment. I noticed that the girl had quickly taken the opportunity to scrounge up another book to attack me with. What the hell was this girl? A bloodhound? How the hell did she keep finding things to throw at me?

She motioned to smash the book into my face, and relying on my soldier instincts, I reacted immediately, grabbing her wrist tightly, forcing her to drop the book in shock at my sudden action. As much as I wanted to just drag the girl away now that I had her in my grasp, I had a feeling that she would not be partial to the idea.

"Look, I'm a friend. I'm just trying to get you out of here." I assured her, and I watched a spectrum of emotions flash in between her eyes. But eventually, she settled on curiosity, and sensing that she wasn't going to make any more attempt to hurt me, I released my grip on her wrist, allowing her to snap her appendage back from me, before she reached out her other hand, which I noticed interestingly contained a thimble on her pinkie, inches away from touching my face.

"Are you real?" She breathed softly, her fingers softly grazing the skin of my cheeks, causing me to involuntarily shudder. Damn hormones were making me run wild. Look, I wasn't going to deny that she was attractive, with big blue eyes, flawless porcelain skin, and a long head of charcoal black hair that was tied up neatly by a blue bow, and she was around my age, but now wasn't the time to be thinking about such things. First, I had to get her the hell out of here, and deal with this Songbird.

Just then, a statue in the middle of the room began whistling madly, causing me to cover my ears in an effort to muffle the invasive noise. Meanwhile, I watched as the girl's eyes widened in surprise and she began running around like a chicken with its head cut off, babbling about getting dressed and something about being out in a minute. Who the hell was she talking to?

Of course, I just had to ask that question. Almost as soon as I uncovered my ears to ask the girl what exactly was going on, the wall to my right was torn away, immediately blasting the room with a rush of cool air. I saw the girl shiver, and for some reason, I had a feeling that it wasn't just because of the cold. A horrible screeching filled the room, and I was almost thrown back by the appearance of a giant yellow orb in the opening. It twitched frantically, as if it was searching for something, and as soon as it spotted me, a click was heard as the yellow orb was replaced by a red one. Okay, I was going to take a wild shot and guess that this was the Songbird I had to defeat. Acting entirely on instinct, I thrust one arm forward, feeling a jolt of electricity course through my arm and exit as a bolt of lightning that struck the creature squarely in the eye. Direct hit.

Songbird screamed in pain, and immediately left its spot at the open hole in the wall, flapping away with its leather wings and leaving me a moment to determine exactly what our next course of action should be, because we sure as hell couldn't stay here.

"Mr. DeWitt, you just injured Songbird! H-how?" The girl was completely in awe, and I had to close her gaping jaw as I sprinted up to the door. Remembering the key that Fink had handed me earlier, I jammed it into the keyhole and swung the door open, motioning for the girl to follow me as I ran through the doorway.

I dashed down several flights of stairs and a few corridors before I came to a door that I swung open, exposing the exterior of the statue. Luckily there was a walkway, rickety as it was. I held the door open long enough for the girl to sneak through before I allowed it to slam shut behind me. The swirling clouds all around us completely obstructed my vision, but I could distinctly make out the shape of what seemed to be a bird like creature as we climbed our way to the top of the monument. It seemed intent on pestering us, no matter how high we climbed, and I realized as we reached the opening at the top that we were at a dead end.

The gears in my head turned as I tried to think of a solution, settling on one in particular. I turned to the girl, who was precariously staring off of the edge of the monument, "Do you trust me?"

"Trust you? I barely know you!" She yelled in reply.

Shit, I didn't have time for this. Disregarding her words, I ran forward and tackled her off of the side of the monument.

"Ahhhhh!" She screamed as we hurtled through the air at blistering speeds. Luckily, I had a hand wrapped tightly around her waist as the wind whipped our faces and almost made my eyes water with the force at which they were being struck.

It was a gamble, I knew, but I reached out with my left hand, hoping that something would be there. Incredibly, the blades hummed to life and began whirling around in a speedy circle as I felt the pull of a magnet ever so slightly alter our flight path. As we continued falling, the attraction became stronger and stronger, until I was suddenly ripped forward, keeping my grip on the girl as we attached to a Sky Hook, the sudden switch of momentum threatening to tear my arm off with its force.

However, despite the pain, I became aware of the fact that we were now safely riding along the Sky Line, without any hint of Songbird following along. The girl had managed to calm herself, and her hysterical sobbing had been replaced with a sigh of relief as she realized that we were no longer falling.

"I can't believe you did that." She angrily punched me in the ribs, causing me to slightly loosen my grip, but not letting her fall altogether.

"Look, I just saved both our lives, Miss…err." I paused, realizing that I still didn't know the girl's name.

She hesitated for a moment before she conceded, "Elizabeth. It's Elizabeth."

We rode along the Sky-Line for a few more seconds until I saw an acceptable landing spot and I launched us off, straight towards the entrance of Monument Island, where I had initially arrived. The two of us fell to the ground with a thud, with me landing on my back and Elizabeth landing on top of me, only adding to the pain of my fall. Why did Columbia hate me so much?

I groaned in pain as Elizabeth pressed up against my chest, a bit disoriented. Upon realizing where she had landed, she immediately recoiled and fell backwards, allowing me to sit up while she floundered around like a fish out of water.

"Guardian!" I saw Samuel yell out, rushing to help me up to my feet, his superior strength as a Handyman coming into play as he easily lifted me a few feet up in the air before I could land shakily on my feet.

"Thanks, Samuel. Um, call me Booker." I added before I pulled up Elizabeth gently, taking care not to use so much force with the more delicate girl.

"Guar-Booker, we need to get her out of here. It's not safe with Songbird still around." Samuel informed me, frantically glancing around for any sight of the mechanical monstrosity.

Just then, the telltale screech of Songbird sounded through the air, and I shook my head in frustration.

"We have no time." I muttered, calling out two police officers, "You two! Get her to cover!"

I grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders and shoved her towards the two men.

"Wait, Mr. DeWitt, what are you doing?" She called out frantically as the two tried to move her to a safer spot.

I whipped out my Hand Cannon, making sure that it was fully loaded before I replaced it in its holster, "I'm handling this. Trust me."

I saw Elizabeth's face fall for a second before she nodded, "Okay, I trust you. You better not be lying to me."

I cracked a smile, "Wouldn't think about it."

With that, I turned to Samuel, who I noticed had equipped a Sky Hook of his own, albeit, a much larger make and model, "Let's go."

The two of us pointed our respective modes of transportation up at a nearby Sky-Line, feeling the sensation of being dragged up into the air. The two of us slid along the rails, eyes open for the avian robot to come at us.

"There!" Samuel roared, pointing his finger out towards a rapidly approaching black speck.

I flipped out my Hand Cannon and peered down the sights, trying to get a read for a shot. My hands steadied, even despite the speeds I was traveling at, a result of years of military training and service. Exhaling deeply, I pulled on the trigger, feeling a significant amount of recoil as I did so. However, I saw my bullet whizz through the air before it struck its target, clipping Songbird in the wing.

However, my shot did nothing more than to slightly slow the creature hurtling at us with incredible speed. Flying with reckless abandon, Songbird crashed into the Sky Lines in front of us, snapping off the metal rails and leaving me to fly off, this time with nothing to reach for and attach my Sky Hook to.

Sailing through the air, I righted myself to stare down at a body of water that was getting closer to me by the millisecond. I smashed into the water, and immediately sunk, narrowly missing the pieces of debris that came flying into the water afterwards. I desperately pumped my arms and legs, attempting to rise up to the surface, but as I felt my vision darken, I knew that it was useless. I was stuck, and it was clear that I wasn't going to find a way out.

I just wish that I could have kept my promise to Elizabeth.

* * *

**All right, I'm going to come right out and say it, even if it breaks your heart, IFtriv. This is going to be a Booker and Elizabeth story. Say what you want, but I don't find that to be a problem in this story for a few reasons.**

**First of all, Booker is twenty years old in this story, and more importantly, he took part in the Battle of Little Bighorn, not Wounded Knee, which is a hint that he isn't exactly the same Booker that we know and love. **

**Second of all, Comstock has his own, more personal reasons for condoning, or even encouraging a relationship between Booker and Elizabeth. All I will say for now is that it falls in line with the ideology of Columbia, and its vision of a perfect world.**

**Third, Booker and Elizabeth are undeniably a cute pairing, as long as it isn't the whole father/daughter incest angle, which it isn't in this story, as I previously explained. Unless this Booker had Elizabeth when he was still a baby himself, he couldn't have fathered this particular Elizabeth.**

**Finally, it is physically impossible for me to write a fanfic without involving some element of romance, my Last of Us story notwithstanding (although there is a little romance in the latest chapter anyways...), and I don't plan to break that trend with this story. **

**Okay, sorry for spending so much space on that, but I hope that if you guys have any thoughts, that you won't hesitate to leave them in a review or a PM. Thanks for reading so far!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the late update. My computer died on me and I lost all of my files, which left me pretty angry, but I've gotten a new laptop and I rewrote everything I lost, so please, enjoy the continuation of Coda. **

* * *

Chapter 4

When I came to, I found myself once again lying on an unfamiliar, but comfortable surface with my ears ringing uncontrollably and making me wince slightly as I felt the ringing subside with time. My fingers scrunched up, feeling the soft and powdery sensation of something underneath me. Confused by the odd texture, I rolled my head to the side to see that I was lying on a curtain of sand.

Wait a second, sand in Columbia? What the hell was going on here? This was a city in the clouds, so why was I lying on a beach?

Determined to get some answers, I quickly sat up to find myself staring off into an endless ocean from my vantage point on the beach. Propping myself up with my arm before struggling to my feet, I allowed my jaw to drop in awe and confusion at the sight before me. From all that I could see, it seemed as if there was a perfectly normal beach in Columbia, but of course, that couldn't be right. How could it be right that, in a city in the clouds, there was a beach? How was there even a body of water in the first place?

"Mr. DeWitt!"

I turned around to see an energetic blur of blue crashing into me and inadvertently shoving my head into the sand in the process, which hurts when you get you face smashed into it, by the way. I might only be twenty, but that doesn't mean that something like that doesn't hurt!

"Please, Elizabeth, don't do that again." I groaned, helping the blue eyed girl up to her feet while simultaneously easing up to mine, feeling little waves of pain shoot through my spine as I rose to my full height, a good head above Elizabeth's. Falling out of the sky definitely wasn't doing my already wearied body any favors.

"Sorry, Mr. DeWitt. It's just that you weren't waking up, and I thought that you had…" Elizabeth cut herself off, not able to articulate the word that did not need to be uttered. I already understood what she had been saying well enough without having to be reminded of the situation I had somehow escaped with my life still intact.

"She's right. We were all worried." Samuel added as he stomped up to the two of us, his massive feet sinking slightly into the sand as he stopped. I guess that beaches and Handymen don't mix too well.

"So um, where are we?" I asked, still utterly confused by the whole ordeal. I still didn't exactly understand why I was lying on a beach in a city located in the middle of the clouds. Did I miss something while I was unconscious? Like the entire city sinking underwater or something?

"We're in Battleship Bay." Samuel replied, gesturing to a sign that reiterated exactly what he had just said. Well, I certainly didn't notice that the first time around.

Elizabeth seemed surprised by his words, but luckily, it was a look of barely contained excitement than anything else. I didn't think that being upset was even in the girl's emotional spectrum, or at least, I would not have, if it weren't for my initial encounter with her, "Wait we are? Oh, Mr. DeWitt, can we look around?" She begged, as if she needed my permission to look around, almost like a child asking her mother. But damn, she was a child with incredibly big and innocent eyes that were impossible to say no to.

"Um, sure." I relented, not putting up much of a fight to her request.

"Great!" She exclaimed, grabbing my wrist and pulling me forward with her as she ran forward jovially, seemingly haven forgotten that we had almost died at the hands of Songbird. Did that mean nothing to her?

"Oh, Mr. DeWitt, isn't this spectacular? Can you believe it? I mean, I've only read about Battleship Bay in books, but to think that I would ever have the chance to actually see it with my own eyes…" Elizabeth trailed off on some tangent about her book and its descriptions while I nodded along absentmindedly. Not because Elizabeth was boring or anything, because trust me, she definitely had a way of holding your interest.

No, I was distracted because my eyes were busy searching the skies for any sort of sign of an incoming aerial attack from Songbird, who was far from being out of operation, if our encounter meant anything. I sensed that Samuel was similarly on edge, because he followed along behind us cautiously, not even bothering to be discreet with his concern, with his head tilted up at the clouds.

"Oh, look, there's a band playing!" Elizabeth squealed, letting go of my hand so that she could run towards a wooden platform filled with couples dancing to a jaunty tune with a maritime splash to it. I opened my mouth to protest, but she was already out of hearing range, eager to join in.

"I'll check out the Boardwalk and see if anyone has seen Songbird." Samuel whispered in my ear, "You can get her."

"Somehow, I feel like I have the tougher job here." I replied sarcastically, to which Samuel chuckled slightly, something that I had never seen from him before. But I wasn't about to complain about seeing a more relaxed side of the Handyman. He was still human at heart, and moments like this reminded me.

"Trust me, if my wife taught me anything, it's that women aren't easily persuaded." He said with a nostalgic smile coming to his face. I could tell that he definitely was attached to his wife, although there was also a clear amount of pain he was feeling at the memory, so I decided to try and change the topic.

Patting his back as I gave him a cocky grin, "Well let's hope that Elizabeth is different."

Seemingly satisfied, Samuel stomped off, leaving me alone with the reality that I had to tear Elizabeth away from the congregation of dancers, who were now forming a circle around who I feared was going to be Elizabeth. This was definitely not going to end well.

"Hey, Miss!" I called out as I approached the group, with one of the dancers moving aside so that I could join their group in cheering on Elizabeth, who was far too busy with a set of elaborate turns to notice me.

"Elizabeth!" I repeated, this time gaining her attention, causing her to stop mid-step and skip up to me, a giddy grin on her face.

"Oh, this is wonderful. Come dance with me Mr. DeWitt!" She urged, holding both arms out in front of her in an effort to have me join her.

I shook my head, "I don't dance, now come on. We should try to get out of here before Songbird comes back."

"Come on, dance with her, son!" The band members chorused in unison at me, with several other dancers chiming in agreement. I swear to God, these people were honestly getting on my nerves, but they only seemed to fuel Elizabeth, who wriggled her arms in a gesture to draw my attention to them once more.

"I already told you, I don't dance." I repeated more sternly, although I really doubted that Columbians had the ability to understand any emotion that wasn't mind numbing happiness.

But my response fell on deaf ears as Elizabeth twirled around in a circle and faced me again, arms outstretched once more and a pleading pout on her face. Damn those big blue eyes and my own weakness to women. One day, I was definitely going have to learn how to turn a lady down. But I guess today wasn't going to be that day.

"Oh please, , one dance!" She pleaded, lips curling up in a smile as she realized that her manipulation was working. I swear, she was some sort of pro at this.

"All right, one dance." I relented, taking her hands, which I realized were incredibly small and dainty compared to my own, and were easily smoother than my calloused appendages.

At this, her face burst out in a dazzling grin that showcased every bit of her natural beauty, only highlighted by the effect that the afternoon sun played on my eyes, illuminating her face so that she seemed to be shining. Blinking rapidly in an effort to counter the effect, I barely had time to prepare myself before Elizabeth pulled for forward so that we were once again in the center of the circle.

"Look, I don't dance, so I'm not going to be good at this." I grumbled, dreading the attention we were getting from the rest of the dancers.

"Don't worry, I've practiced before. Just follow my lead." Elizabeth reassured, flashing a warm and comforting expression that made me feel a little less self conscious about my lack of dancing skills. But only a little bit.

"Just step to the left, then to the right, and then rock back." She instructed as I clumsily tried to follow her lead, somehow putting together a half decent attempt at keeping up with her. For someone who had never danced with a partner before, she definitely knew what she was doing.

Before long, I had settled into a rhythm and was actually dancing without having to worry about my footwork every few seconds, which was pretty good, considering that I wasn't someone who danced regularly. Say what you want about Elizabeth, she was actually a pretty good teacher.

"Raise up your arm, Mr. DeWitt." She ordered, and I obeyed, eyes following her figure as she spun herself underneath my arm and returned to her original position without losing a beat.

"Are you happy now?" I asked, trying to add an inflection of annoyance so that she could understand the urgency of the situation.

"All right, Mr. DeWitt, if you promise that you'll dance with me again later." Elizabeth answered.

Knowing that I wasn't going to get anywhere without agreeing, I reluctantly nodded, "All right, I promise."

At this, Elizabeth did one final twirl before she stopped to face me, bending down into a curtsey. I don't know what motivated me in that moment, but I responded with a bow, one hand bend across my chest as I added a small flourish at the end, which made Elizabeth giggle softly.

"Mr. DeWitt, are you sure that you don't want to continue dancing?" She laughed as she stepped out of the circle, allowing the other dancers to continue without her intrusion.

"Positive." I replied, relieved that Samuel had returned to the two of us.

"Booker, I've checked out the Boardwalk, and it looks like Songbird hasn't been anywhere near Battleship Bay. Now's probably the best time to get out of here." He informed me in a hushed tone, likely because he didn't want to alarm Elizabeth.

"All right." I answered, turning to face Elizabeth.

"So, Mr. DeWitt, where are we going?"

* * *

Comstock House has to be the most imposing thing I have ever seen in my life. With the majority of the building shrouded in mist, and whatever part that isn't bearing the imposing face of one of the Founding Fathers, it was clear why people feared and respected Comstock so much. The man knew how to impress, and to awe.

"You know, I've never actually been here." Samuel breathed with a shudder, no doubt as impressed as I was with the sight in front of us.

"Why? Don't you work for the guy?" I asked, only half paying attention to his words.

He shook his head, "Handymen aren't usually allowed anywhere near this place. But since I'm with you, it's special circumstances."

"Glad I could be of some use." I replied as we continued to cross the bridge behind two guards, who were both outfitted with heavy winter coats, something that I desperately wished I had, since the air was bone chillingly cold. Samuel seemed to be okay, since I assumed that Handymen couldn't really feel hot or cold anyways, but I could tell that Elizabeth was struggling as much as I was with the weather, given that she wasn't exactly dressed in the warmest clothes, with her thin shirt not providing much insulation.

"Here you go. It's not much, but it might help." I offered, shrugging my vest off of my shoulders and placing it around Elizabeth's petite figure, the leather article of clothing being a size too large for her.

"No, I appreciate the help, Mr. DeWitt." She answered, bright eyes shimmering with gratitude.

"Elizabeth!"

Our group stopped in its tracks as we came up to the entrance of Comstock House, where none other than Comstock himself was waiting for us, arms spread out in a welcoming gesture.

You know, now that I really look at it, Comstock and Elizabeth do look somewhat alike, although the age difference was never more evident than it was now. While Comstock looked to be a wearied and worn man, Elizabeth was vibrant and full of energy, although even now, she was subdued by the pure awe of Comstock House.

"Prophet!" She exclaimed, surprised by the mention of her name. Odd, I never realized it, but Elizabeth never called Comstock anything but the Prophet. Now that it was right here though, I couldn't help but to feel that it was an odd choice.

"No, please, call me Father." He replied warmly.

At those words, Elizabeth's eyes suddenly widened, "Wait, Father? Mr. DeWitt, what is happening?"

Wait a second, did she not know about the fact that Comstock was her father? What exactly was going on here?

Comstock stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, "I'm sorry that it couldn't be under better circumstances, but there is no need for me to hide the truth. Elizabeth, you are the Miracle Child. The Lamb of Columbia."

"I'm…what?" She stammered, completely overwhelmed by the moment, if the shock that she wore on her face told me anything.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but please, let me explain in a more comfortable setting. Come." Comstock said, wrapping an arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and leading her towards the open front doors of Comstock House, gesturing for me and Samuel to follow behind him, which we did eagerly, trying to get out of the cold.

The interior of Comstock house was every bit as imposing as the outside was, with a large statue of Comstock himself greeting us as we entered the main hall.

"We'll just duck into my private quarters. The rest of this building is used for the governing of Columbia." Comstock explained to us as he took a sharp left and crossed through a large door that opened to an entirely new section of Comstock House, where we found ourselves in a large living room.

The interior of Comstock's quarters was less imposing, but what it lost in awe, it made up for in spades with lushness and comfort. The walls were lined with a large mural that depicted some of the events that went into Columbia's forming, and several large and extremely comfortable looking couches were laid out in the room, surrounding a raging fireplace.

Comstock led Elizabeth to the couch closest to the flame and helped her to sit down before he motioned for me to do the same. Carefully, so not as to seem too hasty, I took a seat across from Elizabeth, relishing in the warmth that came from the fire.

Samuel chose not to sit, instead deciding that it would be better for him to stand in a corner of the room, staying away from the three of us.

"Where should I start?" Comstock muttered to himself, pondering over the thought by scratching his thick beard.

"From the beginning." Elizabeth breathed, seemingly having composed herself once more, although she was still a bit out of it, from what I saw.

Comstock nodded, "Very well, from the beginning. You see, when I created Columbia, I knew that I was not going to live forever, and that sooner or later, I would need an heir to my legacy. Someone who would carry on Columbia and her message in my wake, when the unavoidable finally happened. But my attempts to sire a worthy heir with Lady Comstock completely and utterly failed, that is, until you were graced upon us. The rest you know. Once you were born, I had you placed in the tower to protect you from the evil in this world, with Songbird to serve as your protector until the fabled Guardian arrived to relieve him of his duty."

"And where is this Guardian now? He must have arrived, if I'm sitting here instead of on Monument Island." Elizabeth asked, her shock slowly fading away and being replaced with rapt curiosity instead.

"Well, he is sitting before us." Comstock answered, nodding towards me.

"Mr. DeWitt is the Guardian?" Elizabeth said, staring at me in surprise. Yeah, I know, I would be surprised too. I definitely don't look the part of some great hero, and I was still skeptical that Comstock had the right guy, but there wasn't really any way to change the man's mind.

I shrugged, "Look, I'm still not sure he has the right guy, but I'm trying my best."

"Please, Booker, you've recovered my daughter. No one would be capable of such a feat except for the Guardian. Have a little faith in yourself." Comstock told me with a warm smile.

"Yes, Mr. DeWitt. I may not understand all that is happening right now, but I do know that you saved me from my tower, and that because of you, I got to see something that I never imagined I would be able to see outside of a book." Elizabeth added with a bit of uncertainty in her voice.

Comstock clapped his hands together, "Well, that settles it. Mr. DeWitt, you've provided me with a valuable service, and I will not forget about your contribution, so thank you for returning my daughter to me."

"I can't say that I did it on my own though. I got a lot of help from Samuel." I replied, gesturing to the Handymen who had been trying to stay unnoticed in the corner, but was now put on the spot, whether he wanted to be or not.

"Ah, of course. I am glad to know that the Handymen are providing you with aid. Good work, my flockmember." Comstock said appreciatively, giving Samuel a thumbs up.

"Thank you, Prophet." Samuel managed, wholly surprised at Comstock's acceptance of him. I suppose that living as a monster had a habit of making one forget that there were still kind people in the world.

"Now then, I'm sure that we are all exhausted after today, and we should call it a night." Comstock started, walking to a door at one end of the living room, "Elizabeth, you can find a guest room just down the hall. For tonight, feel free to sleep there and tomorrow, I can arrange for you to formally return to Comstock House and have a set of quarters to yourself."

Elizabeth nodded and walked through the door that Comstock was holding open for her, but not before she glanced at me and waved, "Goodnight, ."

"Goodnight, Elizabeth." I returned with a wave of my own, which seemed to content her, because she left the room with the first smile I had seen from her since the revelation that Comstock was her father had dawned on her.

Closing the door on her, Comstock turned to Samuel with a more serious expression on his face.

"Samuel, Booker and I need to talk. Would you mind giving us some privacy?" He asked, although it was clear by his tone that Samuel didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Of course, Prophet." Samuel complied, shuffling out of the room as quickly as his large feet took him.

Now that we were alone, I gulped slightly at the knowledge that I was completely alone in a sealed room with the most powerful man in Columbia. I know that he didn't really have any reason to get rid of me, but the situation still put me on edge. Instinctively, my hand went straight for my Hand Cannon, ready to whip it out should the situation demand it.

Apparently, I was not discreet enough with my movements, because Comstock took one look at my hands before he shook his head, "Don't worry Booker, I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to talk."

Although I still wasn't entirely assured by his words, my fears were still somewhat allayed and I allowed my hand to hang loosely from my side, still close enough to reach for my gun if need be.

Comstock saw that I wasn't entirely relaxed, but he pressed on, "Booker, I know that I haven't given you much reason to trust me, and I've thrown you into a crazy situation, but you have to understand my motivations. I just want what's best for Elizabeth."

Even though I had never been a father, I somewhat understood his feelings, "I understand. I can't really explain it myself, but there's something about her that makes me want to make sure that she's safe."

"That's good to hear, and maybe that will make my job much easier." Comstock said with a relieved expression.

"Your job?" I asked.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, "Booker, I don't know how much time I will have left in this life before I am to join God's kingdom. And before my time runs out, I would like to know that Elizabeth is in safe hands. And that is why I want to ask one more thing of you."

I crossed my arms across my chest, not sure where this was going, "And what might that be?"

Comstock cleared his throat before he placed his hands on my shoulders, an action I found that he utilized often, "I want you to be every part the Guardian you were prophesized to be and to join me here at Comstock House as a member of the Founders. I can offer you an estate anywhere in the city, an impressive salary, and the everlasting adoration of every citizen in Columbia. What do you say?"

For a moment, I stood frozen in place, completely dumbfounded. He wanted me to do what? I had only been in this city for less than a week, and already, I was being offered a position that I could never have imagined in a million years? This didn't seem real at all.

"Wait a second, do you have any idea what you're saying?" I sputtered, shaking my head to make sure that I was actually awake.

"Booker, I am completely serious. They do not call me the Prophet for nothing. If you join me now, I can see a glorious end in store for you, me, and Elizabeth, so please, consider my offer." Comstock pleaded, looking me straight in the eyes. His piercing blue eyes were clear, without any hint of duplicity as they bored straight into my skull.

Completely overwhelmed by his presence and stature, I couldn't stop myself as my head nodded along, "O-okay."

Comstock's lips turned up into a grin and I was quickly enveloped by a strong hug, "Excellent. I knew you would make the right choice."

Call me crazy, but despite the fact that I was now going to be working for someone who was considered to be a saint in human form, I couldn't help but feeling like I had just sold my soul to the Devil.

* * *

**And now, this story is really going to start diverging from the storyline of Bioshock Infinite. Expect to see the Vox Populi, and some more familiar presences, but in an entirely different light, now that Booker is working with the Founders. Please, tell me what you guys think of the direction this story is going in. Are you guys enjoying it? Please leave your thoughts in either a review or PM. Thanks for reading and thanks for being patient with me!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for reviewing, guys! As a result of getting a severe ankle sprain, I now have a lot more time to write on my hands, and hopefully, this quick update won't disappoint. Please enjoy the continuation of Coda!**

* * *

Chapter 5

"Are you feeling ready, Mr. Guardian?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose, and besides, I thought I told you to call me Booker."

"Ah, right, Mr. Booker."

I rolled my eyes at the weak attempt at being casual with me. I grew up in a working class family in New York City and never got out of my borough for the first sixteen years of my life. When I was given the opportunity to join the United States Army, I had jumped at the chance to escape my life of being a nobody. I had mistakenly thought being a soldier was going to make me someone special and make me the guy that people looked up to, not the piece of trash that my family and I were regarded as from our position on the bottom of the social pyramid.

But once I got into basic training and had discipline whipped into my ass by my drill sergeants, I think that it would be safe to say that I gave up on those delusions and saw the reality that I was always going to be the guy on the bottom who took orders, and was never going to be giving them. That I was going to be a perpetual loser, who might ever get as high as being the underling to some larger and more powerful corporation, not unlike the position that Pinkerton had offered me before I had come to Columbia. One that I had been tantalizingly close to accepting.

So yeah, I definitely wasn't comfortable with the fact that, all of a sudden, people were calling me "Sir" and "Mister" all the time, as if I was actually somebody important. Then again, I guess that I kind of was a big deal here in Columbia. Maybe they were annoyingly oblivious and overly peppy all of the time, but I actually found that being treated like I was some sort of hero by Comstock's servants was pretty nice. I definitely could get used to being treated like the government fat cats that I hated so much back in New York. I guess that being on top really helped to put things in perspective.

"Well, that should do it." The servant said with finality as his chocolate toned fingers finished deftly tying the striped red tie around my neck that was a part of my new outfit that came with my new position as a member of the Columbian Elite and a job as the personal assistant to Father Comstock, to carry out whatever tasks he deemed necessary for a personal touch to be applied.

"Thanks, err…" I trailed off mid-sentence, realizing far too late that I had no idea what the man's name was, and that I was now caught in an awkward situation due to that fact.

However, the man shook his head, ignoring my gesture, which was rude, to be quite honest, "It's nothing, just doing my job. And don't worry about not knowing my name, I'm here to serve and nothing more."

"Well, that doesn't seem right." I protested in a firm tone that let the man know that I wasn't going to be satisfied by his current response. Personally, I find racism to be bullshit, and it sickened me to know that this man felt like he was beneath me just because of his skin color. I know that it probably went against traditional Columbian doctrine, but I wanted to thank this man properly.

I could tell that the man was uncomfortable, and was having a clear internal debate about what he should do. But after a short while, he realized that I was not going to budge from my position and nodded, "In that case, it's Stanley."

"Thank you for the help, Stanley." I said, holding out my hand so that we could shake. Tentatively, he took my hand and gingerly shook it, rescinding his hand fearfully. Well, it was a start, I supposed.

"Wait, Mr. Booker." Stanley called out as I prepared to exit the room, causing me to turn around just as I reached the doors, "I appreciate your kindness. It's hard to come by in Columbia."

Speaking of which, I found that Samuel had been kindly ushered out of Comstock House this morning already on the grounds that Handymen weren't allowed to be so close to Father Comstock. How ironic. For a supposed paradise on Earth, this place was really lacking some basic kindness for those who weren't a part of the majority.

"It's just a common courtesy." I replied before I turned my attention back to the door that stood in between me and the dining room of Comstock House, where I imagined that I would be getting my first taste of my future life in Columbia. I quickly glanced down at my wardrobe, which I still felt uncomfortable with, considering my usual lack of expensive clothes.

I had on a pair of gray slacks and charcoal shoes paired with a white dress shirt, a gray vest, and a grey suit jacket, which I had left unbuttoned for the time being. In addition, I had a pretty expensive leather watch strapped onto my right wrist that I quickly checked for the time. The whole thing still felt weird, as if I was wearing borrowed clothes, since I had never worn a three piece suit before in my life, and now, I apparently had been gifted a whole wardrobe full of them by Comstock, who again had an uncanny ability to pick out clothes that were perfectly fitted to my body. The man must have been a tailor or something in his past life.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the doors open to find myself standing in the middle of a scene that was…anticlimactic, to say the least. Not that I was expecting some big explosion or anything, but it just seemed so normal that it was a bit abnormal, if that makes any sense. Comstock was already inside the dining room, the sole occupant at the head of a large table that could have easily fit twenty people, if need be, while a few servants scurried around on various errands, which included carting out a few plates of breakfast foods and pouring out two cups of coffee and a cup of milk.

"Ah, good morning, Booker, I trust you slept well?" Comstock asked me, immediately setting down the newspaper that he had been pouring over when I had entered the room so that he could inspect my appearance, "I think that the clothes fit you well."

"Yeah, well I'm still getting used to them." I replied, scratching my head while deciding where to take a seat out of the nineteen that were still available. Decisions indeed.

"Please, Booker, take a seat right here." Comstock invited, patting the seat to his immediate left, where a servant had just finished laying out a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee, with a saucer of syrup off to the side.

Heeding his words, I slid out the seat and settled in, appreciating how comfy the chair was and inhaling the aroma of coffee. It was nice to know that some things were going to stay the same. My job, my wardrobe, and my lifestyle might change, but coffee was always going to carry me through the day.

"So, Booker, I know it's only been one night, but how are you enjoying life as a Founder?" Comstock asked, chomping into a piece of buttered toast.

"It's nice." I replied, deciding to leave it at that, as the doors opened up once more to reveal Elizabeth, now dressed in an elegant blue dress that matched the tone of her eyes, and gave a tone of innocence to her whole appearance, with its conservative design that was still stylish, but restrained in its ability to draw stares. It seemed perfectly suited for Elizabeth, who I doubted would enjoy a huge spotlight anyways.

"Good morning, Elizabeth!" Comstock vocalized with a friendly smile. Well, for someone who had locked up his daughter in a tower for almost twenty years, he certainly wasn't wanting for fatherly affection.

"Yeah, good morning." I added in, not wanting to be left out.

"Good morning, F-Father." She said rather awkwardly, making it clear that she was still getting used to the idea that she was somehow related to Comstock, "Good morning, ." She said a little more naturally, due to the fact that we had spent a little more time together, however little it had been. Being kept apart from normal human interaction for all of her life, definitely didn't help her adjustment.

"So, I trust that you slept well?" Comstock asked while Elizabeth took a seat across from me, immediately supplied with a plate of toast and eggs, along with a glass of milk by a servant, who performed her task with a cold efficiency.

She nodded vigorously, "Oh yes, it was wonderful. It's so different to be able to look out at the stars at night. Normally, Songbird had me in bed far before I would have a chance to look at them, but no one interrupted me last night."

I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped from my mouth after she spoke. It was like she was some little kid, with the way that she was so fascinated with the stars, with her eyes twinkling like they were a pair of stars themselves. I swear, she was a six year old trapped in a twenty year old's body. Not that I had been particularly looking at her body or anything.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it." I said with a wide grin on my face. It really was nice to see Elizabeth so excited. Even though I had known her for less than a day, I had to admit that she had already grown on me.

"Mr. DeWitt, are you trying to be clever with me?" She asked pointedly, although her coy smile betrayed her true emotions. I think it would be safe to assume that lying was not one of her strengths.

Comstock cut in with a hearty laugh, "Now now, what's with this 'Mr. DeWitt' business? We're all members of the same flock, are we not? I feel like 'Booker' is more appropriate for someone who has been of so much service to us."

"Of course, _Booker_," Elizabeth began, emphasizing my name, "You know, that does have a nice ring to it."

"Well, I hate to be a nuisance, but I just wanted to let you two know about the event that has been planned today in honor of your return to the public." Comstock said, tossing out his newspaper in the middle of the table so that we could see the front page.

"The Lamb of Columbia has Returned," I read aloud from the headline, which was complete with a large photo of Elizabeth as a baby, something that I had to admit was pretty cute. If I ever had a baby like that, I probably would end up spoiling her rotten.

"I've already made the preparations for a ceremony to celebrate this occasion. It would be a good chance to let the people of Columbia associate your face with the Guardian, so consider it your grand entrance." Comstock suggested, nibbling his toast again.

* * *

As I stared down the slender man in front of me, easily distinguishable by his striped pants, I couldn't help but to scowl in displeasure. While it was now true that I was a member of society's elite that I had once hated so much, I still didn't enjoy the presence of most of these men, aside from Comstock, due to his more amicable personality.

But this man reeked of arrogance and egotism, and before he even said a word, I knew that I would not be getting along with him anytime soon.

"Saltonstall. Nice to meet you, Mr. Guardian." The man introduced himself, holding his hand out.

"Booker DeWitt." I replied, taking his hand and shaking it distrustfully, although he did not seem to notice the way with which I regarded him and continued on to chat with Comstock, who was running through his lines for the ceremony in which Elizabeth and I were to be "returned" to the public of Columbia. It was all a big fuss over nothing, as far as I was concerned, but if it made Comstock happy, the man could do as he wanted. It was his city after all.

"So, Mr. Guardian, are you ready to entertain the masses?" Fink asked rather condescendingly, referencing the large crowd of Columbians that were already assembled on the other side of the red curtain. I quickly shifted the curtain so that I could glimpse outside, to be met with the sight of a mob of people that filled New Eden Square, all eagerly awaiting the event with thinly veiled excitement.

Possibly sensing my anxiousness, Comstock strode over and gave me a reassuring pat on the back, "Don't worry about it, Booker. The people will love you."

"Indeed, they will." My blood ran cold at the sound of a harmony that was definitely familiar, although I could not pinpoint the exact voices. Whirling around, I saw that the man and women that I had encountered earlier at the fair were now standing behind me, although it seemed that no one else had noticed their presence.

"How did you get in here?" I asked, amazed that no one else had bothered to look in their direction, even after the two had spoken. Just what was going on with these two?

"Ah, but the question is not how," The man began, "But when." The woman finished for him, like they were two incomplete parts of one person piecing together his sentences. This was just getting way too weird.

As I pondered their words, I found that I only grew more confused with each passing second, and I blurted out, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should wipe that dazed look off of your face and enjoy this while it lasts." The woman answered my question in a snarky tone, which annoyed me, but suddenly, the light bulb that they had been standing underneath flickered once, and they were gone. My jaw dropped as I tried to comprehend the situation, but I was quickly interrupted by the sound of raucous cheering.

It looked like Comstock had gotten started already.

"Guardian, get ready. Once the Prophet finishes with his address, you and the Lamb will go out through these curtains." Saltonstall whispered in my ear, startling me.

"Oh, right." I nodded, making my way to the painted dot on the ground that designated the spot where I should be standing when the curtains opened, which was going to be right at Elizabeth's side. Apparently, they wanted to drill into the populace that Elizabeth and I were to be inseparable, given that I was the Guardian and she was the Lamb that needed guarding.

"Well, Booker, I can't say I don't feel a little bit nervous about this." Elizabeth sighed, playing with a strand of her hair.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine." I replied, flashing a smile that I hoped was convincing enough to help ease her anxiety. I know that I wasn't some therapist or something, but it was my best shot, and I hoped that it would be enough to help her relax a bit.

From the way that Elizabeth giggled slightly, I assumed that it was.

"Booker," She added, "You should smile more. It suits you."

Before I could respond, another eruption of cheers interrupted me, and before I knew it, the curtains were being drawn back by the workers manning the stage, revealing the sight of what must have been the entire city of Columbia. I had to remind myself to step forward, far too preoccupied with the overwhelming noise to even think in that instant. Thousands of pairs of eyes traced my movements towards the podium where Comstock was waiting for me and Elizabeth to approach him.

Wait, Elizabeth!

I glanced back to see that she was similarly astounded at the amount of people who had flooded in just to catch a glimpse of her, completely frozen in place. Although the crowd seemed content to continuing their cheering whether or not she got moving, I still decided to step back and grab her hand, getting her attention with my gesture.

Her sky blue eyes met mine, and I gently tugged her arm, leading her forward carefully until we were right up next to Comstock on the stage.

"And now, I present to Columbia, the Lamb and the Guardian!" Comstock roared into his microphone, receiving a deafening cry in response.

"Disgusting."

A voice cut through the crowd, immediately sending waves of confusion through the masses, who immediately began searching for the source. As for me, I immediately honed in on the voice and I tilted my head up at one of the buildings located across the plaza from the stage we were currently standing on.

Sure enough, I saw a row of men lined up on the rooftop of the building, and I couldn't help noticing a glint of metal. Instantly, my mind kicked into high gear as I came to the realization that they were all armed with sniper rifles, and their scopes were pointed straight at us.

"Get down!" I yelled, turning and spreading out my arms to both sides, tackling Elizabeth and Comstock to the floor, just as I heard a volley of shots ring out in the distance. Almost immediately after, little bits of wood splintered off right in the spot where we had been standing moments ago. On both sides, startled guards had their brains splattered out on the stage, but thankfully, I shielded Elizabeth's eyes in time to hide her from the carnage.

"Booker, what's going on?" Elizabeth screamed, just as the crowd realized what had just happened and complete pandemonium erupted, with the frenzied Columbians rushing to escape the plaza in a flood of bodies, all crashing into and trampling each other in their haste to escape.

"Stay down and crawl backstage!" I screamed at Elizabeth, before I picked myself up from the ground. Comstock, meanwhile, dusted himself off, and cautiously got up to one knee.

"Same with you, Comstock!" I ordered, but the older man shook his head and stood his ground.

"These profligates threatened my flock with violence. I won't let that stand." He answered firmly, his eyes holding a steely determination that let me know that he had absolutely no intention of trying to escape.

Nodding, I reached into my suit jacket and pulled out the Hand Cannon I had concealed there before I got onstage. I always kept a weapon on me to help me feel more secure, and I was definitely appreciating that decision right now. I rested my back up against the wooden podium, which was taking shots, but still managed to stand after another volley, and I tried to collect my thoughts.

The snipers were probably too far away for me to get off an accurate shot in time before one of them shot me down himself. But if I tried to sneak off, I was running the risk of being shot down regardless. So there it was, I could either die trying to shoot down one of the snipers, or I could die trying to run away. Well, I guess it could have been worse. Actually, no. It couldn't have been.

"Booker, if you can toss the gun and distract them for a second, we should be able to get behind the curtains in time to escape." Comstock suggested, "They're trained snipers who will hone in on the slightest bit of movement, so they won't be able to stop themselves from following a projectile."

I wasn't exactly confident in his plan, but then again, did I have any choice but to believe Comstock? The podium wasn't going to hold up for much longer, and I sure as hell was not going to die without at least making an attempt at survival. What else was I going to do?

Reaching back, I flung the Hand Cannon out onto the stage. Almost as if on cue, the gun was the victim of at least twenty gunshots, just as Comstock predicted.

"Now!" I screamed, and the three of us sprang out from our hiding place and sprinted towards the curtain, although I could tell that Elizabeth was being hindered by her dress. Knowing that we didn't have much time until the shooters reloaded, I quickly grabbed one of her legs and lifted her up into my arms, ignoring her scream of surprise and relying on pure adrenaline to muscle my way forward behind the curtains, just as another set of shots cracked through the air, striking the platform where we had just been seconds ago.

Knowing that they would now have a harder time of lining up shots with the curtains closed, we quickly made our way to the backstage exit, which opened directly into the streets of Columbia, where we would be able to blend into the crowd and shake loose the snipers.

"Elizabeth, are you okay?" I asked as we stood in front of the door, setting her back down on her feet, while she stumbled around slightly, clearly a bit disoriented from being suddenly picked up and put down.

"What was that?" She asked with a shudder. I knew that she was probably shell shocked from the whole experience. I know that after the first battle I had been in, I was no different. Just wide eyed and detached. However, we didn't have any time to let the situation sink in, unless we wanted to be shot down.

Immediately concerned, both Comstock and I grabbed onto her shoulder to help steady her figure, "What's wrong?"

"I'll be fine." She assured, before she suddenly wrested away from our combined clutches and lurched over, clasping a hand over her mouth. I quickly followed her line of sight to see the mangled remains of a skinny man with striped pants being the only indicator of his identity.

"Saltonstall." Comstock muttered, before he knelt down besides Elizabeth, who was having harder and harder time standing after witnessing more violence than I expect that she had ever intended to be exposed to.

The dead politician already out of my mind, I glanced at my watch, knowing that it would only be so long before whoever the hell was attacking us came to finish the job. We had to get moving, and quickly.

"Elizabeth, I know it's hard, but can you stand?" I asked, gently helping her up and making sure that she was steady on her feet.

As hard as it probably was for her, Elizabeth nodded, "Well enough, I suppose."

Relieved that Elizabeth was at least able to put her fear aside for the time being, I turned to Comstock.

"Comstock, you should go ahead of us and blend into the crowd. They shouldn't be able to find you among all those people, and it'll be safer if we split up." I ordered.

"I don't like it, but you're the professional here, and I trust you." Comstock sighed, shaking his head, "All right. Take care of Elizabeth. And if anything happens to me, just make sure that she is okay. Elizabeth is the future of Columbia, and we cannot lose her to some damned rebels."

"Don't worry, I don't intend to let them anywhere near her." I replied, gesturing to the door, "Now go!"

With that, Comstock ran out the door, immediately melting into the crowd of panicked Columbians fleeing from the Square, exactly as I hoped they would. There was nothing like hiding a shepherd in his flock to throw off his pursuers.

"Well, boys, it looks like we've caught ourselves the Guardian. Or should I say, Corporal DeWitt?"

I whirled around to see that there were a pair of guns pointed at me and Elizabeth, but that was not what caught my attention. No, my attention was squarely focused on a particular man who knew all too well.

"Captain Slate." I answered with a grimace, knowing that there was no way that we could get out of this situation.

"Quick, secure her hands!" Slate ordered, and for the first time, I noticed exactly what Elizabeth had been initially doing. She had her hands out in front of her, as if she were ready to open one of those holes in the air that I had seen her do once before back on Monument Island. I had no idea how she did them, but if it meant that we had a way out, we had to take it.

But before she could finish her motion, she was picked up roughly by both of her wrists, which were being held as far apart from each other as possible.

"Let go of her you assholes!" I screamed, attempting to stop the two soldiers, but a fist came smashing into my jaw, sending me sprawling onto the floor, dazed by the strike.

"I didn't expect any insubordination from you, Corporal DeWitt. But then again, I didn't expect you to fall in line with Comstock either." Slate muttered, nursing his wrist.

Good, I hope my face injured your hand, bastard.

"It doesn't matter. We'll just have to show you the error of your ways." Slate said, grunting to two more soldiers who had joined up with him and they came over, one securing my hands behind my back and the other dragging me forward by a fistful of my hair.

"Let go of him! Booker, help!" Elizabeth cried out, struggling mightily against the hold of the men.

"Silence her." Slate ordered, and one of the men took the butt of his rifle and slammed it into Elizabeth's head, knocking her out cold.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" I yelled in anger. How could these bastards do that to an innocent girl like Elizabeth?

"Silence him too." Slate added, and I tilted my head up just in time to see the stock of a sniper rifle flying towards my face.

* * *

**Yeah, I know I said I would go to the Vox Populi, but really, I can't forget about addressing Slate's rebellion first. And his rebellion is really going to be important in developing the relationship between Elizabeth and Booker, as they still have not spent a massive amount of time together yet in this universe. Hopefully, you guys also enjoyed my nod to the politician Saltonstall, as short of an appearance as he had regardless. **

**Please, if you guys have any thoughts or suggestions, leave them as a review or a PM! I really appreciate all the feedback I get, and they definitely help motivate me to keep writing, so if you guys want to see more, leaving a review wouldn't hurt! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you've been enjoying this story thus far!**


End file.
